


Finding My Heart, And My Head

by Charlie9646



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Bickering, F/M, Falling In Love, Fingering, Kissing, Mental Illness, Mental Instability, Mentions of thinking you may have killed someone, Minor Sirius/Remus - Freeform, Nightmares, PTSD, Potions, Severus Snape Lives, Touching, after the war, dealing with the war, taking potions, trying to find her parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 10:36:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20965151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie9646/pseuds/Charlie9646
Summary: Hermione Granger is desperate to find her parents. But no one – besides who she least expects to want to help – can go with her. The truth is, though, he has more in common with her than she thinks.Even if he is a bit of a prat.





	Finding My Heart, And My Head

Hermione Granger was waiting to take her Portkey to Australia, Harry was supposed to be going with her, and as usual, he was late. Their goal was to find her parents, she had a few leads but not much else to go on. She stood on a hill off the coast of Scotland, the wind whipped her hair into her face. At least it wasn't raining though, that would make waiting so very much worse.

Instead of Harry in his ill-fitting jeans, the faded tee shirts he tended to “favor” and the wool coat she had bought for him, it was Draco Malfoy walking up the hill, with his white-blonde hair longer than she had ever seen it before, not unlike how Snape wore his but far better trimmed, and his pale skin which was almost pink in the wind.

He wore a pair of dark tight jeans, boots that were surely made of dragonhide, and a black leather jacket. He reminded her of the photos she had seen of a younger Sirius Black, even though their coloring was very different, but they were cousins after all, even if neither would admit it if you dared to ask them about it.

Hermione called out to him harshly, “Why are you here, Malfoy?”

He rolled his silver-blue eyes and said: “Potter can't go with you, his girlfriend is pregnant, so he sent me instead.”

She spat: “Why would he send you, of all people?”

Malfoy laughed cruelly. “Because your former Weasel knocked up Lavender Brown, he's got a soon-to-be wife, the other Weasels are mourning their brother still, Snape refused and insisted he's going to Paris and doesn't want to hear from anyone for at least a year, Black and Lupin have finally decided to shack up, finally, my mother is sick, my father’s on house arrest, so the only person he could call a favor or life debt from was me.”

Hermione put her hands on her hips. “Why not Luna or Neville?”

Draco said, “Because Looney Tunes is looking for her magical creatures that don't exist, and Longbottom is getting his mastery, that's why.”

Hermione mocked him: “You know Looney Tunes is a Muggle reference, right; not so anti-Muggle are you?”

He rolled his eyes at her and said: “It's just something, Snape used to say.”

“I doubt that,” said Hermione.

Draco laughed. “Well he did even if you don't believe it, he actually grew up in the Muggle world.”

“And?” she asked, full of pure snark. “That explains why you are here to go with me to another country, and anyone else isn't?”

“Because, Granger, it's me or going this alone, your choice. If you choose to go alone, do send a letter to Potter before you do, I don't enjoy getting Howlers myself, even if you might enjoy them,” Draco snarled at her.

She sighed at him and pinched her nose. “Fine, Malfoy, you can come with me. If you give me crap though, you can find your own way home.” Hermione took off her Portkey necklace and held it out in Malfoy’s direction. “Grab on,” she muttered.

He did, and it pulled them through space, to a country as far away as they possibly could go away. They landed in a field in Australia. She coughed harshly and he vomited. She smirked at him. “Can't handle a simple Portkey, Malfoy?”

Draco snarled: “Same could be said about you, Granger. And why in the world did we not land in a city either magical or Muggle?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, “Because this is the safest way to not expose ourselves and be as close to my parents, where I think they are, as we could get.”

Draco snarled at her, his silver eyes flaring dangerously for a second, so quickly if she hadn't been staring into his eyes, she would have missed it. There was the old Malfoy. He may have gotten better, but he was still who he always was.

Hermione pretended she had not seen that look and then said to him, “Malfoy, the best method to get to town is likely hitch hiking.”

Draco said, “What in Merlin’s name is hitch hiking?”

Hermione groaned: this was going to an experience of telling him something Muggle and then having him asking what it is. She explained,”It's getting a ride from someone who drives by.”

Draco asked with a groan, “Why can we not just Apparate?”

She rolled her eyes. “Ever been to Australia?”

He said, “No.”

She declared, “Me neither, so we can't Apparate somewhere we don't know well in the middle of a Muggle city. International statute of secrecy, does that ring any bells?”

Draco asked, “What about flying?”

She rolled her eyes. “I didn't bring a single broom with me, and I doubt there is one to Accio in the area, and even if there were, I don't fancy stealing.”

He shoved his head into his hands and groaned loudly. She stood on the side of the road, her thumb held up, waiting for someone to see it as they drove past, ignoring Malfoy—he could stay here if he wanted to, but she was going to try and get into the town she thought her parents were in.

It did not take long; a man in an old truck pulled up, and stopped. He was rather grandfatherly, like a younger Albus Dumbledore with his clear blue eyes and silver-colored hair. The truck was painted a peeling blue. The man asked, “You and your friend need a ride, Miss?”

She smiled at him and said “Yes, sir, we do. I am Hermione, and he's Draco.”

He laughed. “Well I guess your parents liked Shakespeare and his liked astronomy.”

She smiled and told him, “You could say something like that. Your name is?”

The man said, “Samuel, and I am assuming you want to be dropped off in the town square, or at the gas station?”

Hermione was happy he had offered suggestions to help her figure out where to ask to go because if he hadn't she would have had to say the edge of town or a gas station—likely the gas station—and Malfoy would have asked another bunch of stupid questions. “Town Square would be perfect if you don't mind,” she said.

They piled in the truck on the bench seat. She sat in the middle because she was shorter, and she was somewhat hoping distance would help Draco to not make a fool of them or give away something that a Muggle would not know. Pure-bloods thought they knew so much, but the truth was she knew both worlds while he only knew of the magical world. Half-bloods in some cases were just as bad as pure-bloods, while others like Harry knew a bit about both, like her.

The drive was quiet, the man had the radio playing something Hermione had never heard before and didn't care to hear again. Malfoy stared out the window and was gripping the door with a death grip. She thought to herself, it couldn't be, Malfoy scared of a car? He was a seeker for years at Hogwarts. Nearly nose-diving to the ground on a broom was fine, but riding in a car was scary?

When the truck came to a total stop after pulling to the side of the street, Hermione poked Draco in the ribs with her elbow. “Let’s go, Draco. We best be getting on our way,” she said, her tone slightly too cheerful.

He struggled to open the door, so she had to reach over him, touching his body, though not his skin. She sighed as the truck door opened for her. The air was dry, though not too warm. It was like Scotland’s summer, though you could barely call it such a thing, and that meant it was winter here. At least as they tried to find her parents they wouldn't be baking in the sun. Draco climbed out of the truck and she followed, turning back to thank Samuel for the ride.

He said, “It was my pleasure, Miss. You and your odd fellow have a good day.”

Hermione dragged Malfoy into a quiet alley off the Town Square. “Stop acting like a wizard!” she hissed.

He snarled back: “Unlike you, Granger, I have never been anything else!”

“Why are you even here, Malfoy? Why did you even agree to come with me?” asked Hermione.

Draco said, as he pulled at his blonde hair, “I honestly don't even know at this point!”

She looked up at the sky and saw that it was getting dark. “Malfoy, let's just try to find some supper and a place to sleep tonight like a motel.”

He opened his mouth to ask a question.

She stopped him. “A motel is like an inn.”

And with that, they were off to find both food and a place to spend the night.

***********************

They had eaten greasy fish and chips at a pub down the road, and then found a cheap motel a few blocks away. All that was available though was a room with a single king-sized bed, much to Hermione's dismay. Why was Malfoy traveling with her, when he didn't know a thing about Muggles, when he did not know about how things worked, and lastly when he seemed to live to push her buttons?

Hermione wished her ex-boyfriend, and borderline ex-friend, Ron, had joined her on this trip instead. Well mostly. Ron had cheated on her, right after the final battle, with Lavender Brown. It seemed sitting with the girl as she healed from her wounds led to ending up in bed with her.

Not that Hermione truly cared anyway, mostly; she could see that she and Ron had been unlikely to work out. The stress of the war and the stress when, for a second, she had thought she might be pregnant, had shown that too clearly. She was not, thankfully—pregnant that is. The stress, and the scarcity of food during their “camping trip”, had simply messed with her cycle.

The last thing she wanted to be was a single mother, but the only thing worse than that would be to be married to a man who did not love her. And Ron may have loved her at one point, just as she had loved him at one point.

She pushed that out of her mind as she took a shower, trying to get the grime of the day off of her. For a few minutes, she didn't have to worry about Malfoy, Ron, Lavender, Harry and his upcoming baby with Ginny, or even the death of Fred. All that mattered was the sound of the water hitting the tiles that surrounded her, and the chance to be clean.

After the war, she had grown to treasure showers in a way she never had before. Way too soon was she done with getting clean and there was a loud knocking on the door, and a voice insisting, “Don't use all the hot water, I would like to shower tonight!” She shut off the water, dried off and got dressed.

She wrapped her wild hair in a towel and yanked the door open, gave Malfoy a dirty look and went to sit on the bed.

After his own—longer than hers—shower, he came out in nothing but his boxer shorts! Arsehole, she thought to herself. He was an utter arsehole. She snarled at him: “Put some fucking clothes on!”

He rolled his eyes at her and put on a pair of pyjama pants.

She said, “And a shirt! I am not your girlfriend, Malfoy, and I don't even think you're good looking!” That was a lie, she thought. He was quite handsome. His muscled stomach, his arms, his clear pale skin, the bulge she had seen in his boxer shorts. No, she must not think about those things. He was Malfoy, he was an arsehole, he was a jerk, he thought she was not human, as if she was less than him, but most of all he was a nasty person. He was a spoiled little boy who had not grown up at all.

Malfoy put on a white under shirt and said: “Well it looks like we are sharing a bed, don't touch me and I will not touch you.”

It was not like she wanted to touch him anyway, and the bed was big enough that she could fit two other people in with them.

******************

Hermione woke up late or early depending on how you look at it, to the sound of Draco’s cries.

“Not my mother, no! Get away from her! Don't touch her!” And then he let out a blood-curdling scream.

She knew she shouldn’t do it, that you shouldn’t try and wake someone from a nightmare, but he seemed so upset, so scared, so much like a child who was truly afraid. She placed her hand on his side, he was facing away from her and sleeping on his side. She whispered to him, “Draco, it’s not real, I swear it, it’s just a nightmare, your mother is safe in England. You are safe.”

Draco woke up with a start, his body shaking with fear. He whispered to himself more than to her: “It seems so real, I can smell it, feel it, hear it, like it’s truly happening.”

Hermione dug in her bag and pulled out a dreamless sleep potion. She knew he shouldn’t take it regularly, no one should, but tonight was okay. One night wouldn’t kill him. And she had a potion in her bag he could take every night before those nightmares, or as Muggles called them, night terrors.

She handed it to him without a word and he took it without asking what it was—she realised he must have some trust in her to do such a thing. But, before he fell totally asleep, he pulled her into his arms, and buried his nose in her hair. She said nothing. It was just one night, after all, tomorrow they likely would either find her parents or be staying somewhere else.

Though she did get the best night sleep she had gotten since, well, she and Harry were sharing a bed in the tent. Draco’s arms around her felt right, even if he was a jerk when he was awake.

************************

They had been through three towns by now, with no luck. Her parents it seemed did not listen to the planted memories she put in their mind, they were not in England, Scotland, Ireland or Wales, but Merlin knew where they actually were.

Draco was shockingly helpful, and even more kind than she ever thought he was capable of being. And they had grown closer. Neither spoke of what was going on between them. Hermione thought if she did, well, then he would use her feelings against her, and Draco, on the other hand, feared what was happening would end—that he would be left to his night terrors alone, to face his own broken mind with nothing but an empty bed, potions, and his father’s words ringing in his ears: “Malfoys do not act like this!”

Maybe Malfoys shouldn't act like this, but how many of them had been seventeen with the threat of the Dark Lord wanting to kill them and all their family? Right, no one but him and his parents, his father of all people should understand that. But the man was far too full of himself to understand Draco’s feelings.

So the two fools said nothing, not one word about what they were doing. She always asked for a single queen bed when they got a motel room, he didn't question that there were no rooms with two queen beds, he was awake at night when he reached out to hold her, but so was she, and she did not mention it the next morning. Neither wondered why they hoped that they would have more time together.

They were sitting in a cafe together going over leads—well, Draco was reading a newspaper, and Hermione was wishing she had something stronger to drink than tea. He muttered to himself more than to her, “I think I may have found them.”

Her eyes went wide and she said, “How, Draco? And where?” It was both wonderful news, and horrible news. If they found them they could give her parents back their memories, but whatever they were doing now, whatever game they were playing, would have to end.

She would have to figure out what she wanted to do with her life. She could go back to Hogwarts. Minerva said she could start at any time, it was not like she needed to get caught up, and even if she did then she was the type of person who could do so over a few weekends. Ron and Harry had taken Kingsley's offer and were joining the Auror department. That just didn't feel right for her. Nevertheless, without NEWTS she didn't have many other options.

She could just sit for them, she was likely to pass them with ease, even Snape had said that the last time they spoke. If the man who seemed to enjoy tearing people down for the sake of tearing people down said it, surely it was true, right? Well, if she was honest with herself he wasn't like that now, without all the bravado of being the Death Eater spy, was he? She never would call him kind, gentle or sweet, but he had apologized to her after he had found out she was the one who saved his life. So maybe he was being honest…

Whatever she could figure out after she and Draco had found her parents, and this might not even be them after all, they might still be here months from now—was that what she actually wanted though?

Draco repeated what he had said for the fourth time before he yanked the now empty teacup from her hands. “Earth to Granger, you still there? Or did your mind fly away on me?”

Hermione shook her head and snapped out of it. She asked him again, “What did you find?”

Draco’s silver-blue eyes stared at her, and he said, “Wilkins Dentistry, next town over, want to go check it to see if it's them? It's not like we have anything to lose, right?”

Hermione nodded, but thought to herself, How wrong you are Draco Malfoy. We have much to lose if you and I are becoming something more than friends, but it will end when we find my parents—or at least that’s what she feared.

***********************

They looked in the window of the Dentist's office, standing on the street corner staring in the shop. Draco quietly muttered, “Is it them? Does it look like them?”

Hermione stared at the man and woman who were surely her parents. The woman had dark brown and silver straight hair, and soft, kind brown eyes. The man had sandy brown streaked with grey, short-cropped hair, but it had a slight curl to it like her own. His honey-colored eyes were what gave him away as her father, though.

The older couple took off their lab coats and stepped out into the sunshine of the day. Hermione wanted to run up to them say the counter spell and then throw her arms around them. But, their conversation stopped her dead in her tracks.

They were talking about Monica’s pregnancy and how happy that they had gotten so lucky to be able to have a child at their age. Hermione's heart fell to her feet and her stomach went in her throat. They had moved on. It was truly as if she had never existed at all; that was the point of her spell, and yet it shattered her heart into a million pieces.

She turned away sharply, wanting to run as fast and as far away as she could. As she started to make her move, Draco’s hand grabbed her by the waist, and he yanked her back saying, “Stop it Granger,” which simply caused her to try and pull away harder. “Hermione, I am guessing those are your parents.”

She nodded, but did not turn around, daring not to speak a word, for fear of her voice cracking and her tears slipping out. He could see her wild hair bob up and down, then he spoke: “Hermione, if they knew you existed, I swear to Merlin they would want you to help them remember who they truly are! If it were my parents I would do anything to have them back. I nearly killed for mine. I would have killed for mine. Now let's go track them down and do the spell.”

“Tomorrow,” said Hermione. “We will do the counter spell tomorrow. I just can't right now. I just want to sleep and forget about all this for a few moments. And let them have their happy evening celebrating their child. They deserve that. Before I either help them find themselves again or crush their whole world.” Tears started to fall from her eyes after she said that. She was unable to hold them back.

She wanted to take a Portkey back to England. Hermione knew how silly she was being, how ignorant, how stupid. But, that didn’t stop those emotions from cropping up. The feelings that said she should just leave them be. Draco was likely right, but a small part of her that was left over from the war, told her that her parents wanted a normal daughter, a normal child, not a witch with the word Mudblood carved into her forearm. Not the teenager who had starved, fought, and even killed.

Hermione Jean Granger had killed or at least she thought she had at the time. The person, the Death Eater, was trying to kill her friend. It was one of the Lestrange brothers. She didn't care at the time to know which, but now she wished she knew. He was going after Luna, her back was turned to him. He was going to kill her friend. The words were out of her mouth, with anger she didn't know she was capable of possessing, and then he lay dead, or it had seemed like at the time was dead.

She later heard a rumor that both Lestrange brothers were in Azkaban. She didn’t know whether to be terrified or happy. She should fear the fact that he was still alive because he surely remembered her face, and if he were to ever escape… Well then he would go after her. He would try to kill her to repay her for the job that she was not capable of.

It still haunted her, his prone body lying on the stone floor. That was what caused her to flee to the shack, where she found Snape laying in a pool of blood, still, but barely, breathing. She shoved every potion in her bag that might help him down his ripped open throat. She told no one, not even him, that the only reason Snape was alive, was because she could not bear watching another person die.

Without realising it, Hermione fell to her knees on the sidewalk. Draco muttered to her, “Come on, Hermione, let’s go back to the motel, and have something stronger to drink than tea. It looks like you need it.” He didn’t wait for her response, but hauled her up by her arms as if she were just a child, and led her back to the motel room they shared, a few blocks away.

********************

Both of them were good and drunk, the shared bottle of whiskey was barely half full. They had long since given up on glasses and were drinking it straight from the bottle. They were sitting close enough to touch—Hermione and Draco.

She reached out her hand, her thumb on his lips, and the rest on his cheek. He shut his pale eyes and just sighed into her touch. He kissed her thumb pad, and her hand went to his neck as she leaned in to kiss him. He kissed her back, his tongue in her mouth, both of his hands pulling her into his lap, then one on her hip and the other snaking under her shirt, thumb brushing the ribs. He had rarely seen her out of her large baggy clothes.

Thinking of it, as he rested his forehead on hers when they came up for air, he had never even seen her arms during their whole trip. He tried to think back to why that would be. Hermione was never one to be overly conservative. She didn't dress like Pansy, but she did usually dress for the weather, and she had not been.

And then it hit him like a ton of bricks. Bellatrix! Just thinking her name made him want to snarl. She did this. She was surely the cause. He could hear Hermione’s screams as if it was yesterday. Her screams were one of the things that had filled his nightmares for months.

Draco knew he shouldn't dare ask her this, but his tongue was loose from whiskey. He said in a whisper as she sat on his lap knees resting on either side, “Show me yours and I will show you mine.”

And Hermione gave him a dirty look, and snarled, “You arsehole,” and slapped him.

Draco grabbed both of her wrists in his hands and said, “Is this going to just be our thing? You punching or slapping me?”

Hermione pulled away from him and jumped off his lap like she had been the one slapped. She made her way to the bay window. He lit a cigarette. The click of the lighter caused her to look at him. She narrowed her eyes at him and said, “That’s a horrible habit, you know?”

Draco laughed. “You and everyone else tells me that.” He took another puff of it. He was too much like a younger Sirius. Just slightly better behaved. He said as he raised a single eyebrow,“I didn't mean what you were thinking. You know that right?”

Hermione said, “So you weren’t stupidly telling me let’s fuck?”

He shook his head and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. “I meant I will show you the scar Bellatrix left me with if you show me yours.”

Her brown eyes turned to saucers as she said: “How in Merlin’s name do you know about that?”

Draco hissed, “Because it haunts my nightmares the same as it does yours. At least your screams do. Hermione, I went to school with you. I am not a heartless monster. I offered to be the one to join you on this trip because I was hoping you of all people would understand what I have been dealing with, after Snape refused to let me join him in Paris. You and him are the only two who understand—that are living, and not in Azkaban or too stupid to see it.”

********************

Hermione, shocked at his confession, mutters, “You asked to join me? Why? Why do you care about me finding my parents?”

He says into his palms, “Because I don't know, I just do.” Draco works on the buttons of his own left sleeve. He then pushes it up past his elbow. In the dimly lit room, he shows her his worst mistake and greatest regret. “Bellatrix held me down as he did it, as he set the magical branding iron to my skin. She told me I should be proud to wear his mark, I ended up vomiting all over the floor and myself that night. My mother and Snape were the ones who cleaned me up and tried their best to heal the wounds that my aunt had given me beyond the mark.” His eyes seem to stare into her very soul. Neither of them is drunk any more. Or at least it's no longer the fun kind of drunk. Just the depressing kind.

She pulls off her thin blouse tossing it on the bed. She walks over to him in just her jeans and bra, and he can't help but stare at her naked flesh. Her hands are on his knees. “This is the present Bellatrix left me with, Malfoy.” She twists her arm slightly to show him the harsh red letters of Mudblood standing out sharply on her pale skin. “I can assure you that you and Snape do not understand what it's like to be marked with this! Considering you both have used these words against a woman you claim to care about!”

He presses his face closer to hers and whispers, “Then why did you save him and why did you let me kiss you?”

She whispers, “I don't know,” and kisses him again. When finished they curl up in bed together like they always do, like they have for weeks, but instead of sleeping they talk. She talks about his possible uncle she may have killed, he talks about what it was like to live under the Dark Lord, she tells him about the true fear that she has that her parents will not love the person she's become, the girl who may have killed a man, even if was to protect her friend, even if it wasn't the truth, even if the rumors were true and both Lestrange brothers were alive in Azkaban.

He tells her he wants to burn the very manor he grew up in, the one where his family has lived since they came to England, to the ground. She tells him that she, the little know-it-all, doesn't know what she wants to do with her life. He tells her why he couldn't kill Dumbledore. She tells him about the fear that the Lestrange brother is actually still alive, lying in wait for his chance to escape Azkaban, so he can try and kill her, that she feels happy and horrid to know he’s still likely alive—happy because it means she’s not a killer, horrible because he will want to kill her, if he ever gets out. They both understand what it’s like to not be able to kill someone, even if it was the thing that would have kept them safe.

She tells him of her fear that she was going to be eighteen and a single mother, the joy and pain of it being just a false alarm. He tells her about Astoria, and what it felt like to lose her, that her death is one of the hardest things he ever had gone through.

He tells her that he doesn't even know if he wants children, that a part of him hopes to end the Malfoy family with him, but that Lucius would never allow such a thing.

No else seems to understand them. Sirius said the man was was just a Death Eater—Lestrange—why did she even care if he was dead or alive? It was just a Death Eater.

Remus said that the first time you kill it leaves a mark on you soul. Not literally, but your heart and soul feel like they are broken. That you will never be the same again. But even Remus couldn't understand why she was worried when the man was likely still alive.

********************

His fingers touch her in places that make her scream. They are hot on her belly and her breasts. He is kissing her, and she him. She reaches for his hardness, her fingers brushing the head which causes him to arc into them.

Once they both have finished they curl up in just their underclothes in bed. She sleeps with her head on his shoulder. Draco cannot help but kiss her wild hair. They sleep with no nightmares as they hold the other.

*****************

The next morning Hermione and Draco wake up and dress without speaking. They find her parents' store front with the same ease as they had the day before. This time, though, she says the counter spell when she sees them, knowing it's the right thing to do.

Within seconds her mother turns to her and shouts, “Mark, it's Hermione, our daughter! She's here and alive! Look! And she's with that blond she always said was so mean, Malfoy something. But why is he smoking a cigarette? And why is he here with her?”

Her father runs to her and grabs her in his arms, and starts to cry. “Hermione, I don't know what you did to us, and I don't even care sweetheart, but you're going to have a little sister and we can be a family again.”

All Draco says is, “I told you so, Hermione”. All four of them can't help but cry. Draco puts out his cigarette with his boot and they go into the Wilkins Dentistry office to talk about all they need to. They have all the time in the world to figure everything out.

  



End file.
